Nicolás Guillén — A Stalinist Cuban Poet
In this 21st century in social media 1+1 is not always 2.
You can read about Fidel Castro Ruz as a hero or as a villain. Which one is he? It depends on which “side” you are on.
One of my favourite poets (with Jorge Luís Borges, Emily Dickinson, Homero Aridjis, Williams Carlos Williams and Ogden Nash) is Cuban-born Nicolás Guillén (1902–1989).
He wrote poems in Spanish with some words that he invented just for sound. Some of his poems (I have his collection in Spanish) if you read them out loud they come out with a Cuban accent. He was one of the first black men of the 20th to write about black pride. And yet he wrote this (below a translation from the Spanish). He wrote especially about the social scene in Cuba during Batista’s corrupt regime before Castro’s Sierra Maestra.
Stalin, Captain,
Protected by Chango and sheltered by Ochun.
At your side free men sing as they walk:
The Asian, breathing with volcanic lungs,
The Black, with white eyes and beard of pitch,
The White, with green eyes and beard of saffron.
Stalin, Captain.
Europe’s map of stone and coal trembles.
A thousand centuries collapse and roll about emptily.
The North and South winds blast like cannons.
Heads and decapitated heads encircle.
The sea burning like a lake of tar.
Mouths which yesterday sang of Truth and Good
Today lie under four metres of bitter sleep…
Stalin, Captain.
But the future is grounded, lifting its hopes
There in your red land where bread is joyous
And lofty breasts, armed with a single song,
Deter and will deter the vulture’s wings
There in your icy sky of powder and fuse,
Stalin, Captain.
A jar of magnolias, Buddha’s floral heart
Extends its ecstatic gesture;
A continent turns upon the Sea of Japan:
A crude bloc of blood from Siberia to Ceylon
And from Smyrna to Canton…
Stalin, Captain.
African drums with resonant beat
sound their vivid alert over jungles and deserts,
fiercer than the lion’s metallic roar;
and raising its stormy forehead to Mount Pichincha(3)
America convokes its pumas and alligators,
yet also greases its engines and rails.
The blind German will see hatred all around:
the dove, the airplane,
the toucan’s beak,
a vast indignant river of life,
poisoned arrows, carried by cyclone winds
their targets will strike…
Stalin, Captain,
Protected by Chango and sheltered by Ochun.
At your side free men sing as they walk:
The Asian, breathing with volcanic lungs,
The Black, with white eyes and beard of pitch,
The White, with green eyes and beard of saffron…
Stalin, Captain.
The peoples awaken, and march at your side!
Many of Guillén’s poems became popular songs in Cuba. My very favourite Tu no sabe inglé can be found in this excellent video. It starts in a bar of Spaniards who do not know how to turn on a TV. Wait as it will be worth it.
TÚ NO SABE INGLÉ
Con tanto inglé que tú sabía,
Bito Manué,
con tanto inglé, no sabe ahora
desí ye.
La mericana te buca,
y tú le tiene que huí:
tu inglé era de etrái guan,
de erái guan y guan tu tri.
Bito Mar,’ué, tú no sabe inglé,
tú no sabe inglé,
tú no sabe inglé.
No te enamore ma nunca,
Bito Manué,
si no sabe inglé,
si no sabe inglé.
